Nothing like a Rosedale yoga class to get your blood boiling.
Yeah, I know - this isn't what you'd expect from yoga, but hear me out.
There is a core group of women who attend the class I like to take on Sundays. They seem to know each other or have come to know each other through the class.
Most people spend the time before a class begins lying on their mat, practicing their breathing and calming their minds. Not these ladies.
They show little consideration for other students in the studio and stand around gabbing to each other without a thought about the people trying to relax before the class starts.
When they get props - blocks, bolsters or straps - from one of the double closets that line the south side of the studio, they leave the doors wide open. Who cares about the person sitting near the closets?
But their bad behaviour doesn't end there. They also walk across other people's mats - mine included - on their way to-and-from the closet!
Clearly, they don't know the significance of the mat, and probably see it as mere padding for the knees.
The yoga mat is my practice space, a clearly delineated haven where I come face-to-face with my thoughts and delusions. In this way, it is a sacred space, and unlike the mat in the front foyer of one's home, it is not intended for people to trod across mindlessly.
So, hey, you - get off of my mat!
